The Magical Milk Chronicles
by particularly good finder
Summary: Four times Kurt brought Finn some warm milk, and one time Finn returned the favor.


**So, I know I have things to update, blah blah blah, but I'm sick and a little delirious and exhausted, so I'm writing whatever my brain thinks of and hopefully I won't regret it in the morning.**

* * *

Finn slumped against his bed, frowning. First Quinn, now Rachel…was he just completely worthless? Was he really that undesirable as a human being that he couldn't satisfy any of his girlfriends?

A knocking on his door startled him. "Finn?" Kurt's voice called from the other side. "I come bearing sustenance."

Finn pulled a shirt on quickly, then called back. "Um, okay. That's not…explosive, is it? 'Cause Mom would freak if we destroyed our new house."

Kurt opened the door, rolling his eyes. "I'm pretty sure milk isn't explosive, Finn."

The taller boy shrugged, resting his cheek against his headboard. Kurt sat on the edge of his bed, passing him the mug he was holding. "Drink. It'll help you sleep."

Finn obeyed, spitting out the vile drink as soon as it passed over his lips. "I thought you said this was milk!"

Sighing, Kurt nodded. "It _is_. It's warm milk, Finn."

The taller boy grimaced, setting the mug on the floor. "Why are you here?"

Kurt smiled. "I was hoping I could help you with your lady problems. I received quite a few loud voicemails from Rachel during Warblers rehearsal informing me of your…parting of ways. I wanted to see how you were doing."

Finn shrugged, staring at the wall. "I'm fine, Kurt. Really. Just…I'm tired. Can you leave?"

A hurt look crossed over Kurt's face, but he nodded. "Sure. Sweet dreams."

The smaller boy flipped the lights out as he left, shutting the door gently behind him. Finn closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. A small tear of guilt and frustration pooled in the corner of his eye, sliding down his nose as he pulled his quilt up to his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, trying to drift away from his problems, but the pain his chest kept him grounded in consciousness.

_It'll help you sleep._

Finn looked over the edge of his bed, eyes locking on the steaming mug of crap on the floor. He picked it up, taking a whiff.

_Well, it doesn't_ smell_ that bad._

He inhaled again, smiling peacefully. It had been really nice of Kurt to bring him the milk. At least _somebody_ thought Finn was a worthwhile human being.

Placing the mug on his bedside table, Finn closed his eyes, nestling into his pillow. The scent wafted over to him, dulling the pain in his chest. It reminded him of being a little kid, and having his mom scare away the monsters that lived under his bed. He felt warm all over, and before long he drifted off to sleep, Rachel forgotten.

* * *

"_Just leave me alone, Rachel!_" Finn threw his phone against the wall, trying very hard not to tear his hair out. She had called him – again – quickly listing off the reasons why they were a perfect couple. He was _tired_ of trying to tell her _no_.

Finn kicked over his desk chair, balling his fists. Everything was just going downhill lately. Why couldn't he just have a moment of peace?

Luckily, Kurt seemed to understand that. He peeped into the room as Finn let out a roar of a shout and quickly disappeared. And considering his mom never came upstairs, Finn assumed Kurt had stopped her from investigating. Man, he owed him.

To calm down, Finn started pacing. His room was small, but he made it work: his bed was jumped on, his desk was walked on, and his dresser…was treated as a wall-like boundary. He paced for an hour, taking deep breaths like Kurt had taught him. His frustration ebbed away, and his legs started getting a little sore. He fell back onto his bed, pouting. Finn didn't know why Rachel's persistence bothered him so much; hadn't he wanted someone to pine for him?

Reaching over to his bedside table, he grabbed a small book that he was certain belonged to Kurt. Reading, as horrible as it was, never failed to distract him. _Robert Frost? That sounds cool. Like, Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne._

He opened the book, frowning. Poetry. Finn _hated_ poetry. But a vision of a crying, begging Rachel flashed through his mind, so he flipped the page.

"_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood_," he read aloud, squinting at the page. "_And sorry I could not travel both_…"

His eyes drooped dangerously, but Finn persisted. "_And be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far I could…"_

A little while later, Finn woke groggily. The small black book was sitting on the bedside table, a blanket covered his long body, and a comforting scent wafted through the room. Finn looked over to see a steaming cup of warm milk sitting by his bed, in Burt's favorite _#1 Dad_ mug. Finn smiled, inhaling the strange, but very welcome smell, memorizing its exact essence.

He didn't drink any (_yuck_), but he shifted so he was facing the mug, sighing peacefully as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Finn sat at his desk, studying his Physics notes absentmindedly. Kurt leaned in, knocking on the doorframe. "I bring non-explosive sustenance!"

The taller boy set down his pencil, raising an eyebrow. "Um…thanks, Kurt, but I'm not upset."

Kurt set the mug down (a shade of dark green today, with a cowboy riding a horse etched into the side). "So? Warm milk is delicious."

Finn hid a grimace, turning back to his physics. But the numbers and symbols just jumbled themselves across the page, so he quickly faced his brother again. "Thanks…"

An awkward silence filled the room, and just as Kurt turned to leave, Finn asked, "Dude…why are you so obsessed with warm milk all of the sudden?"

The smaller boy sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Well…when I was little, my mom would bring me a glass of warm milk every night so we could have some one-on-one time. A little bit of mommy/son chatting. Gossiping, really, if a three-year-old can gossip." Kurt shrugged, looking off into the distance. "I guess I just hoped we could…you know…talk?"

Finn's eyebrows shot up. "Talk? Like…talk?"

Hiding a laugh, Kurt nodded. "Yes, talk. As in, moving your mouth and emitting understandable sounds. But I get it, you're busy. Sweet dreams, Finn."

Finn pushed his chair out from under the desk. "Wait. Um…I'm done studying. So we…we can talk, I guess."

Kurt grinned, plopping down on Finn's bed. "So. How was your day?"

Looking at the ground awkwardly, Finn mumbled, "Um…fine. Yours?"

The smaller boy sighed dramatically. "My day was quite lovely. Though somebody needs to take that gavel away from Wes soon or he's going to go power-mad…"

There was a lull in the conversation as Kurt awkwardly laughed at his own joke and Finn stared off into space. Kurt looked defeated as he shifted from his uncomfortable position on the edge of the bed.

Guilt pooled in Finn's stomach, so he took one for the team and gulped back some of the milk, cringing at the taste. Kurt's mouth twitched into a small smile.

"Well, Mike did the funniest thing in English today! Mrs. Crocker was droning on and on about her seven cats – the woman's thirty, for Pete's sake! – and Brittany was getting all excited, chattering on about Charity, her tabby, and…"

Soon Kurt was on the ground in stitches, tears leaking from his eyes as he struggled to breathe. "YOU-YOU-YOU'RE KIDDING! HE _DIDN'T_!"

Finn chuckled, sipping at the milk some more. On second taste, it wasn't _that_ bad. "He _did_! Now he's got detention for a month, and Crock-pot has been given bi-weekly sessions with Ms. P."

Kurt choked on his laughter, wiping at his eyes. "Mike Chang is my new hero."

Finn nodded, happily watching his brotherly compose himself. It had been so long since Kurt had let himself laugh like that.

"Oh! That reminds me of something David and Ian did last week…" Kurt said excitedly, and Finn waved his hand eagerly to hear the story. He took another sip of the milk, listening intently.

In the morning, Carole peeked into Finn's room to be met by an odd sight. Kurt was curled up sweetly on Finn's bed, hair disheveled and face completely moisturizer-free. Finn was slumped against his desk, chair turned awkwardly to face Kurt. By his homework sat an empty mug.

Carole raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. For once, she and Burt could have a peaceful breakfast.

* * *

"Finn! I'm back! And I bring milk!" Kurt walked into his brother's room to find his bed completely stripped of pillows and sheets. In the corner, where a desk used to be, was now a giant fort.

"Finn! Come out here! I'm not crawling on my hands and knees to deliver milk to you." Kurt tapped his foot impatiently.

"No! I like it in my fort! Come in here with me!" Finn's voice had a particularly juvenile tone to it, muffled by the wrinkled sheets.

Kurt set the milk down on Finn's desk, sighing. "What are you, five?"

"Ma-a-aybe…" Finn taunted. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, when you see seventeen-year-old Finn, please tell him to come back to planet Earth, okay?"

"Okey-dokey, artichokey!" Finn's voice rang out from the fort, and Kurt left, chuckling. Walking past his dad and Carole, he pushed a few buttons on the oven, the pulled out the organic, pre-made cookie dough he had in the freezer. He shoved a couple hunks onto a pan and placed it in the oven, setting a timer. After watching TV with his parents for a little while, perpetually complaining about the IQ points he was losing from watching such garbage, he sauntered into the kitchen, pulling out the cookies. As they cooled he prepared two more glasses of warm milk, the carried all three objects upstairs on a tray.

"Finn…" Kurt called out. As he expected, the mug from the desk was gone, and a strange giggling came from the tent. "Finn, open up the fort."

"What's the magic word?" Finn asked, giggling some more.

"I'll throw pee balloons at you with Artie and Mercedes."

"Um…correct! Come on in!"

The makeshift flap opened wide as Kurt shuffled on his knees, carrying the tray. Finn's eyes widened as he saw the cookies. "I thought that, since you were being five today, that you should at least do it right."

Finn laughed, grabbing a cookie excitedly. "Thanks, bro! I love you!"

They both froze as he said that, Kurt's face turning a bright red as Finn's drained of color. An impregnated silence swelled between them. "Um…thanks, Finn. Um…me too."

"You too…what?"

Kurt nibbled at a cookie. "I love you, too. And don't have a Big Gay Heart-Attack. I mean that in a purely platonic way."

Finn looked worried. "Platonic?"

The smaller boy sighed, but smiled. "In a…brotherly way."

Finn smiled, chewing on a huge hunk of cookie. "Oh, cool! Well, I love you in a plate-techtonically way, dude. Brothers from another mother."

As they drank their milk and argued over their favorite Power Rangers, Kurt couldn't find it in his heart to correct Finn's improper use of words. He really was like an over-grown five-year-old.

* * *

Kurt came home from Dalton crying one Tuesday. Burt and Carole were on a date, and Finn was sitting in the living room trying to beat his high score on _Halo_. The smaller boy burst into the house, followed by an equally upset Blaine.

"Kurt! Please!" Blaine shouted after him as his "not-boyfriend" ran up the stairs. "I promise, you're safe with me! Kurt!"

"What happened?" Finn asked, dropping his controller. Blaine sighed, crossing his arms.

"Karofsky and his friends showed up at The Lima Bean when we were getting lattes to celebrate his A+ in History. Shoved us around a little, but nothing too graphic. We left pretty quickly, but not before Dave could scare the hell out of Kurt."

Finn clenched his fists. "Heads are gonna roll…"

Blaine sighed. "Look, I don't think Kurt wants to talk to me right now. But…he could probably use his brother."

The taller boy nodded, waving Blaine off and locking the door behind him. Making sure every entrance on the first level of the house was secure (Karofsky was creepy, okay?) he clumsily pouted some milk into a glass and stuck in the microwave, punching some numbers and watching it spin impatiently.

As soon as the machine beeped the milk was in Finn's grip and he was taking the stairs (slowly) two at a time. He opened Kurt's door carefully and peeked in, watching sadly as Kurt sobbed into his pillow. Finn tiptoed over to the boy's bed, sitting down on the edge.

"Hey, buddy," he said quietly, nudging his brother. "C'mon, look at me."

Kurt turned over, eyes red and nose running, and looked at Finn. His lips trembled as he hiccupped, and Finn shoved the milk into the boy's hand, smiling sadly. "Here…I figured you could use a bit of your mom right now…and a lot of your brother."

Kurt hiccupped again, taking a large swig of his drink. "T-t-thanks…"

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Finn asked as Kurt took another gulp.

"You…y-you're _offering_ to talk? Who _are_ you?" Kurt asked, wiping at his eyes.

Finn shot him an impatient look. "Yes. Talking is important to release pent-up emotions."

Kurt choked a little on his milk and raised an eyebrow. "Where did _you_ learn _that_?"

The taller boy wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulder. "From the guidance of a really awesome brother."

Setting the glass on his bedside table, Kurt leapt at Finn, hugging him tightly around the waist. Finn patted the smaller boy on the back, grinning. Kurt sniffled, and whispered. "Why are you so _amazing_, Finn?"

Finn laughed. "C'mon, buddy. Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"_Everything_."

Kurt shifted so he was leaning back against his pillow. "Make yourself comfortable, Finn. It's a long story."

Finn leaned against the other pillow, handing Kurt his glass. "I've got plenty of time, Kurt. Start from the beginning."

Kurt took a sip of the milk, sighing. "Alright, so it started when I stood up to Karofsky in the locker room-"

"Wait, wait." Finn ran downstairs, returning a minute later with a crumpled bag of Chips Ahoy. "Now…start."

Three hours later Burt and Carole came home to an empty milk carton, a missing bag of cookies, and two giddy brothers attempting to build a fort out of textbooks and sleeping bags.


End file.
